The Great Christmas Ritual
by Sullivan Grundy
Summary: The story follows a man searching for an onion on short notice. This is a tie-in with "The Great Onion Shortage" but I felt that it didn't match the rest of the story to be placed with the other chapters. Also Christmas.


On the night before Christmas, Everyone was snug in their beds. Sleeping to visions of sugar plums in their head. But me, there was far much to do. I must place the onions on the mantle piece with precise precision. I must squeeze the juice of the finest onions, and hang the Swampletoe. All for one esteemed guest, St. Shrekolas. He will be here soon, but the preparations have yet to be completed. A full glass of onion milk requires five onions; but I only have four. What will I do? This night must be perfect. If I use another onion, there will not be enough for the mantle piece. But the instructions call for a full glass of onion juice.

That's it, I have the solution! Old Mrs. Skrown always has onions. I must simply ask her for one. I throw on my gown and race to the door. Through the hall and down the stairs; to room 102. I knock thrice with urgent rhythm. Mrs. Skrown opens the door an inch. "Whatta ya want" she sputters. "So sorry to bother you this late ma'am, but could I borrow an onion"? Mrs. Skrown spits at my feet. "Ya kiddin' me boy? I needs them onions fer my beauty treatment". I beg Mrs. Skrown for the onion but to no prevail. She shuts the door and leaves me in the hallway, onionless. "Bitter old crone, not like those onions are doing anything for her beauty". I stroked my chin and tapped my foot. "I must get an onion by midnight"! It was then I had a new plan; an awful, devilish new plan.

I dashed to my room and threw open the window. I stepped out on the snowy ledge, shimmied to the gutter drain and slid to the floor below. with careful steps, I made my way to Mrs. Skrown's window. I pulled my body through and fell onto her bathroom floor. As I made my way to her kitchen I passed her sitting in her living room, listening to radio. I entered the kitchen to an astonishing sight. Onions piled to the ceiling. More onions than any human had business with. I carefully selected the finest onion and made my way for the door. The onion heist seemed too easy so far, until I noticed between me and the door was Mrs. Skrown.

Not only did she block the quickest path to freedom, she had also turned to face the hallway. I would have to leave though the kitchen window. But her kitchen was on the opposite wall of my apartment. I would have to climb down to the street and re-enter the building. Squeezing through the kitchen window was made difficult by the mountain of onions; but I managed in the end. As I shimmied to the gutter drain I stepped on a patch of ice, catching myself with my finger tips. my hands were far too cold to pull my body back up onto the ledge. I would have to drop down to the next ledge prematurely. Dropping down was easy enough, landing safely on more ice was the challenging part. I fell a full story into a dumpster, the soft trash breaking my fall. I dusted myself off and hurried back into my apartment.

Time was running out, I needed to juice this onion right away. I squeezed the nectar from the round onion straight into the glass. and not a moment too late. As the last drop of onion juice fell into the glass, the circle of onions on the mantle piece began to glow a pale green. I shielded my face as a burst of energy surged through the room. as I regained my sight, I noticed a large figure standing in my living room. His stomach bulged and his hands held a large sack. It was St. Shrekolas, or at least appeared to be him. I approuched him and offered the glass of onion juice. He snatched it from me and gulped it down in one swallow. Looking refreshed, St. Shrekolas knelt down and asked "What is you wish for, laddie". I pause for a moment, thinking of the best way to phrase my request. "C-can you bring Shrek back home"? St . Shrekolas stood up and sighed. "Listen laddie" his eyes deep and saddened. "We all want Shrek to return, but he has to find his own way back". I hung my head in disappointment as St. Shrekolas placed his free hand on my shoulder. "Shrek knows what he's doing". He then turned his back to me; the same energy as before building up in the air. "At least, I hope he does".


End file.
